


family’s not as far as you think

by always_an_anxious_mess



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (he just hits himself with a pickaxe its not graphic), Angst with a Happy Ending, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Family Dynamics, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, I know this isn’t canon anymore but I wrote 4k of it before the streams today, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Infection, Intrusive Thoughts, I’ve been calling this “THE BEAST” in my head because ive never written a oneshot this long before, Manipulation, Manipulative Clay | Dream, Me projecting just a little bit on Tommy, Past Child Abuse, Phil is their dad, Sickfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Tommy is a minor it counts, Villain Clay | Dream, and kept writing, then said fuck it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_an_anxious_mess/pseuds/always_an_anxious_mess
Summary: Tommy was so, so very cold. And so, so very tired. He doesn’t want to die.Does he?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), shippers dni - Relationship
Comments: 72
Kudos: 1795
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	family’s not as far as you think

It was cold.

Tommy was so, so very cold.

The prime log was nice, a familiar constant in his rapidly changing life, but the little bunker he’d carved for himself was so so so very cold. Outside wasn’t much better. Inside the bunker provided some shelter from the wind, but it didn’t keep him any more warm then the outside did.

He did get stolen moments of warmth, when Techno and Phil were both gone and he could sneak upstairs and sit by the fire for a few minutes. Then, his anxiety paranoia would get the better of him and he would bolt for his bunker once more.

Tommy tried his best not to take too much from Techno and Phil, only enough to get by. A meager amount of food every few days. A needle and thread to stitch up his clothes. A spare blanket. Wood to reinforce his pickaxe when the handle started to break. Stealing more thread to stitch up an accidental stab wound he’d somehow managed to give himself with his pickaxe while mining.

The most ballsy thing he’d ever taken was a coat, when it had gotten too cold for him to handle. It ended up being Wilbur’s old Pogtopia coat, still slightly bloodstained and torn. He’d sown up the tears, ignored the bloodstains, and buried himself into it, just glad that he had some form of warmth.

He could hear Techno and Phil sometimes. They’d gotten into a heated argument after Tommy had taken the coat, both of them accusing the other person of taking it. It seemed that his stealing of necessities had been noticed, and they’d been talking about it in the many weeks he’d been there. Him taking the coat had brought their tensions to a head.

He didn’t take anything for several days afterward, until hunger motivated him up the ladder to steal more food.

Their anger hadn’t lasted long, thankfully.

Tommy wished he could just go upstairs and fall into his father’s arms. He’d let Techno yell at him, he’d let Techno beat him bloody if he wanted to, he just wanted to be held and to be warm.

Tommy didn’t notice his thoughts becoming progressively foggier, his limbs slowly becoming heavy. He noticed the ever increasing pain in his side from where he’d accidentally stabbed himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d done all he could, stitching it up and trying his best to keep it clean. But as it became harder to think straight, keeping it clean became a chore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a bath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a proper meal. He couldn’t remember the last time he was warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held.

Tommy wanted revenge on Dream, so so desperately. But the thoughts of vengeance only echoed vaguely in the back of his head as the days turned into weeks of being beneath Techno’s house. His whole focus was on putting one foot in front of the next, memorizing Phil and Techno’s sleeping patterns so he could go warm up and grab some food.

His thoughts weren’t his friends anymore. They echoed of fear and exhaustion and hunger and pain. His thoughts were what drove him away from Techno and Phil. His thoughts were what kept him down in this hole. His thoughts were what kept him moving when all he wanted was to curl into a ball on the floor of his bunker and let the cold take him away. Let the cold numb the pain from hunger and from exhaustion and from the stab wound. Let the cold take him to a sleep he’d never wake up from.

Maybe he’d be better off that way.

Tommy had considered it. His pickaxe was sharp enough to do the job, if he swung hard enough. He could just lay out in the snow outside and let himself fall asleep. He could go upstairs and let Techno cleave his axe through his skull.

He could steal a weapon from upstairs and do it himself.

It was tempting, so so so very tempting.

It was pathetic, thinking back on how he’d begged Dream to let him go to L’manburg for Christmas. Now, all Tommy wanted for Christmas was for the pain to stop.

It was probably well past Christmas by now, but its the thought that counts, isn’t it?

How long had he been here? It was hard keeping track of the days when he didn’t see the sun very often, only the moon. He’d kept track of time in the beginning, not so much anymore. His head was too foggy to focus on menial things like the time.

His body was warm but the air was not. It’d been like that for a while. Heat radiated from him, he knew, but he still felt so so so cold. If he was in the right mind, he would’ve been able to tell he had a fever, probably because of the stab wound in his side being infected. Unfortunately, Tommy was not in his right mind. He couldn’t notice the infection, nor that he had a fever.

He could count his ribs when he lifted up his shirt, without much difficulty at all. If he was in the right mind, he’d realize he was malnourished, but alas.

Tommy was in bed, sheets pulled around him and drifting in and out of consciousness until he was sure that the noises coming from above were gone.

He was hungry. His hunger was what drove him out of bed and slowly and unsteadily up the ladder, nearly falling several times. His hunger was what allowed him to swing his much heavier than usual pickaxe until he had broken through the stone floor of Techno’s base. His hunger is what allowed him to slowly haul himself up and drag himself across the room, ignoring the chained up growling zombies in favor of rifling through his older brother’s chests for food.

“Hello?”

Tommy stiffened, head turning towards the noise. It was coming from above. His mind was too foggy to place who it was. It sounded familiar though.

He heard footsteps from a couple levels above him, and Tommy panicked, nearly slamming the chest lid on his fingers as he bolted away. The chest closed with a loud clack, and Tommy ignored the ladder that would lead him to his bunker too slow too slow too slow too slow and snapped open the doors to the outside, taking off across the snow as fast as he could go in a rush of adrenaline that he wasn’t used to. He hadn’t moved this fast in.... who knew how long.

It wasn’t even very fast, considering he hadn’t been outside in a long time and the snow was deep and Tommy’s limbs didn’t work the way he wanted them too.

It was daylight outside, and the light blinded him, reflecting off the snow. He scrunched his eyes shut and forced himself forward.

Going outside was a mistake. He left an easy to follow trail and in the daylight, his dark brown coat stood out across the snow covered ground. If Tommy was in his right mind he would’ve been able to notice these things.

Tommy was not in his right mind.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d gotten from the house before he collapsed. He wasn’t even sure how he collapsed. He just remembered walking, and the next second he was in the snow, surrounded by the cold.

This wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could fall asleep this way. Maybe he would never wake up. That would be nice.

He had forgotten about being pursued in his feverish state, his mind disconnecting from the fact that he was in danger in favor of just letting himself give up in the snow. Let go of the pain.

Hands grabbed Tommy, and he was being hauled out of the snow, and then off the ground by his shirt.

“Alright kid,” a deep voice growled. When Tommy managed to open his eyes, all he could see was a haze of pink, pale blue, and red. He could also register a sharp pain from his temple. Had he hit something in the snow when he landed? “You think you can fuckin’ steal from me and-”

Tommy was abruptly dropped, and he landed in the snow again, not even trying to catch himself. He was vaguely aware of his brain trying to switch back from idolizing death to the fact he should be very afraid, but it was taking a long time.

He struggled weakly to haul himself to his feet, but all he managed to do was half sit up and kick his legs feebly before falling over again. Giving up and falling asleep sounded really nice right now.

Someone else’s hands found him again, this time his face with a fierceness but gentleness at the same time. They pulled him into a sitting position, fingers tracing his cheeks as if they didn’t believe he was real. Someone was behind him now too, supporting him and keeping him from falling over.

“Tommy? Oh my god. Tommy. Tommy,” a person, different than the first, sounded like they were crying. “Tommy.”

Tommy blinked at the person in front of him, seeing nothing but a smudge of light blue and pale yellow in front of him, with a darker color as well.

His mouth formed a name as his feverish brain managed to half-recognize who it was. A soft grunt that sounded suspiciously like “Phil,” crawled out of his throat in a way that left him in pain.

“I’m here, I’m here,” the person- Phil, Phil said, voice full of tears. “Tommy oh my god, you’re alive. You look awful.”

“Mmmm,” Tommy groaned in response, eyes fluttering shut again. No point in looking at anything if you can’t see anything.

“No. No no no no no. Tommy, don’t fall asleep, come on,” Phil begged. “Don’t fall asleep on me. Techno, he’s burning up, he’s bleeding.”

Techno. Techno. Techno. A shudder ran through Tommy. Was Techno here? Was that who he’d heard earlier? Was that who was supporting him? Why hadn’t Techno killed him yet, if he was here?

“I know, I know,” the deep voice from before- Techno Techno Techno Techno. “I... whatever you’re going to ask, it’s not even a question. Just hold on.”

Tommy felt himself be moved by Techno, who he assumed was the person behind him. He was pulled up, with who he assumed was Phil supporting him, until someone else, Techno, quite literally swept him off his feet and started carrying him bridal style.

“Christ,” Techno sounded... sounded... did he sound horrified? That was new. Tommy had never heard him like that before. “He’s skin and bones. You don’t have any business being this light, gremlin.”

Tommy didn’t answer, blindly grabbing a fistful of whatever Techno was wearing. It was soft, like Techno’s usual red cloak, but he hadn’t been wearing anything red as far as Tommy knew.

It wasn’t long, definitely less than a minute, before Tommy registered that the wind had stopped howling around them, and that it was warmer.

“Move Edward,” Techno grunted. Tommy wasn’t sure who Edward was, but he heard something scrap against wood, loud enough to make him flinch and start trembling.

Then, he was being put down. It was very warm here, and it was a shock to the cold Tommy had been used to for so long. How long had it been? He still didn’t know.

The warmth was making him more tired. Maybe he could fall asleep. Sleep sounded nice, especially if he didn’t wake up afterwards.

He started drifting off, but startled up when he heard someone snap their fingers next to his ear. Tommy jumped, eyes fluttering open again.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Phil said sternly. Tommy’s vision was slightly clearer than before, and he could see the tears rolling down his father’s cheeks. “Don’t you dare fall asleep. You need to stay awake mate.”

Tommy left out a soft groan, letting his eyelids start to fall. Phil slapped Tommy’s knee, making his eyes shoot open again.

“Techno-” Phil turned, sounding like he was about to start giving instructions.

“I have some stew, it’s cold, but it’s not old,” Techno interrupted, thrusting a bowl of something suspicious and brown into Phil’s hands. “I’m going to grab some water and a rag, you work on heating him up.”

Something passed over Phil’s face, and Tommy could just vaguely recognize it as pride as Techno briskly walked to the ladder on the other side of the room and climbed down it.

Tommy eyed the bowl. His eyes didn’t recognize it as food, but dammit he’d eat anything at this point. The sight of it sent some strength into his limbs, and he snatched the bowl from Phil, raising it up to his mouth and gulping about half of it down before his dad managed to grab it back. It tasted like garbage, and some had spilled onto his shirt and coat, but the brown practically blended in with the dirt, coal dust, and blood that had been littering Tommy for ages.

His fingers reached for the bowl again, this time with less strength, whining when Phil pulled back.

“Give it,” Tommy whined, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

“You’ll throw up if you eat it too fast,” Phil hesitated, scooping some of the stew up with a spoon and holding it in front of Tommy.

If he hadn’t been so sick, so hungry, and so partially out of it, he would’ve been embarrassed at the thought of his dad feeding him like he was a little kid again, but he didn’t care.

Instead, he just jerked forward and clamped his mouth down on the spoon, cleaning it off completely before letting go.

Phil blinked in surprise for a moment, but he didn’t hesitate in scooping up another spoonful of the stew.

This went on for several minutes, and Tommy had drained the bowl completely by the time Techno had come back.

Techno came over with a bucket of water and several rags, radiating silent anger that immediately put Tommy on edge and had him instinctively shifting away from his older brother, even in his delirious state.

“Tommy,” Techno asked, clearly trying to control his anger as he soaked one of the rags and gently started to dab the throbbing spot on Tommy’s temple. “How long have you been in that hole?”

Tommy made a soft choked noise while Phil looked at Techno, stunned.

“What hole?” Phil asked, but Techno didn’t answer, dark brown eyes locked on Tommy’s much duller than usual blue ones.

“Awhile,” Tommy grunted with a shrug, breaking eye contact and bracing for a hit.

The hit never came.

“How long?” Techno repeated.

“What day is it?” Tommy asked instead.

“Thursday,” Phil responded immediately, then smacked his forehead. “Uh, January....12th.”

“Almost a month,” Tommy closed his eyes to avoid what he knew were going to be angry looks. Whatever they did, he hoped they didn’t yell at him. He could take being hit, Dream and Wilbur (not Ghostbur, Ghostbur was nice) used to hit him all the time, but yelling was awful and he didn’t like it.

A sharp inhale came from Techno, and Tommy heard Phil audibly choke for a moment. Techno’s dabbing stopped for a few seconds.

“Why-” Phil cut himself off, sounding pained. “Why...”

Tommy cracked his eyes open, staring at him dully but not giving him an answer. He was still waiting for someone to hit him. Just being kicked or slapped or something would be better than sitting here.

“Dream told us you were dead,” Techno said softly, softer than Tommy had ever heard him speak. That’s what caught his attention. “That you jumped off the tower and died after blowing up the campsite you were staying at.”

“Dream’s a liar,” Tommy slurred, shivering as his eyes closed again.

“No sleeping, Tommy,” Phil said sharply, making Tommy flinch and open his eyes again, bracing for blows that never came. Phil’s voice softened again. “I know you’re tired, but I need you to stay awake, okay?”

Phil raised his hand and pressed the back of it to Tommy’s forehead. He was checking Tommy’s temperature. The last time Tommy remembered Phil doing this was when he was a kid.

Phil obviously didn’t seem happy with what he found, based on the way he frowned.

“Tommy, do you have a cut somewhere?” Phil asked, lowering his hand. Techno seemed to falter at the question, eyes searching Tommy’s skin as if looking for said cut.

“Got stabbed,” Tommy offered weakly, fever-riddled brain talking for him. “Here,” he reached up slightly and tapping the wound through his coat, hissing slightly and jerking his hand away afterwards.

Tommy was pretty sure Techno and Phil’s eyes nearly popped out of their skulls at that.

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he mumbled. “I stitched it.”

“Blankets, bandages, needle and thread, health or regen,” Phil instructed Techno, who immediately got up and rushed down the ladder.

Phil scooted forward and pulled Tommy off the wall, tugging the coat down and partially off Tommy. Phil seemed to notice it was Wilbur’s old Pogtopia coat, visibly faltering and breath hitching at the patch sown onto the arm and the stain on the back.

He didn’t say anything though, instead lifting up Tommy’s shirt to inspect the stab wound.

Phil jerked back, looking sick, and Tommy had to assume it was worse than he’d originally thought. Maybe it wasn’t okay? It felt okay, other than hurting sometimes. Why did Phil look like that?

“Jesus Christ,” Phil whispered, sounding horrified.

Tommy blinked tiredly at his dad, eyes slipping closed again without his notice. This time, because of Phil being so focused on whatever was wrong with the way Tommy had stitched the wound, Tommy wasn’t prevented from slipping into the dark wave that was sleep.

This time though... maybe he wanted to wake up.

* * *

Tommy’s eyes opened, still sticky with tiredness. His brain seemed different than it had been recently. Everything was less muddled, things were easier to focus on. His side hurt, his stomach growled, and he wasn’t able to ignore those things as easily anymore.

He was on a bed, wrapped in a dozen blankets, near the fireplace. He was upstairs, upstairs! Upstairs where he was warm and his fingers and toes were no longer frozen and he cold feel his nose and ears.

Tommy could hear Techno and Phil, though their voices were muffled and quiet. He could pick up some things though.

“—gonna kill that green bastard,” Techno’s voice came through at one point.

“—stab in the ribs—stitching—Wilbur missed him—Tubbo—” came Phil’s at other points.

Tommy almost wanted to drift off again, listening to the soft murmurs of his family not far away.

Then he remembered that this was Techno. And Phil. He wasn’t dead yet, but he surely would be soon if he stayed here any longer.

His mind was still foggy, but it was clearer than it had been in weeks. Had they found his hole? He wasn’t sure. That was probably the one place he could go for now, get away for long enough for them to forget and then start stealing again.

Tommy pushed the blankets off of him, shivering at the cold and sitting up with a soft groan. The wound in his side throbbed incessantly, but he ignored it, swinging his legs over the bed and shivering as his bare feet hit the cold floor. He didn’t have a choice. He still had to get revenge on Dream.

Did he want to though? If Techno killed him, then the pain would stop. That would be nice.

No no, he wasn’t done yet. He couldn’t give up. Dream needed to pay.

Tommy forced himself into standing, white hot pain shooting up from the hole in his side and startling him enough that he lost his balance. He hit the ground with a loud thump, another jolt of pain going through him.

The voices outside fell silent, and Tommy tried to scrabble to his feet, but only managed to sit up before falling over again, this time yelping when he hit the ground.

Footsteps shook the floor, and Tommy flinched as someone immediately crouched down beside him, grabbing at him.

All he saw were flashes of green before he immediately slammed his eyelids shut, the image of a smiling mask burning his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he stammered, his words slurred and he could barely even understand himself. “Everything’s in the bunker. I’m sorry please don’t yell at me I’ll do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want to me I don’t care-”

“Tommy...” that sounded like Phil, and Tommy immediately quieted. Hands gently grabbed his face and lifted his chin, enough that Tommy opened his eyes just a little bit.

It was Phil, and Techno was there too, off to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy mumbled, breaking eye contact and flinching away.

Phil was silent for a moment, before bending down and scooping up Tommy with ease. Tommy was a bit surprised, to be honest. He was taller than his dad, and didn’t think he’d gotten that light, but it seemed he had.

“Let’s get some food in you,” Phil said softly, putting him down on the bed once more and pulling a blanket around Tommy’s shoulders like a cape.

Phil disappeared somewhere behind Tommy, and he didn’t turn to look where he’d gone, instead focusing on Techno.

Techno was radiating silent anger, enough to make Tommy brace himself to be smacked, or maybe even killed.

Killed. That’d be nice.

No no. He couldn’t die yet.

Fuck.

Tommy dug his fingers into the blanket that was around him, unaware of his trembling as he stared at the floor just in front of Techno’s boots.

The tension in the room was suffocating as seconds passed with no words between them.

“You aren’t gonna hit me?” Tommy slurred quietly, barely even able to hear himself. Techno had better hearing then he did though, so he knew his older brother heard it.

“No I’m not going to hit you,” Techno sounded baffled. “Why do you think I’m going to hit you?”

“‘cause I stole your shit,” Tommy hummed. “‘Cause I’ve been hiding in your base for weeks stealing shit. ‘Cause I’ve treated you like shit for months. I’ve been hit for less.”

Techno fell silent, his face betraying his barely concealed anger. “Tommy,” Techno said quietly, dangerously. “Who’s been hitting you?”

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut, and he stared at the fire. “No one’s hitting me anymore. I thought you would.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Tommy stayed silent.

“You want me to be angry? I am angry with you, that wasn’t a fucking question,” Techno scoffed. “I’m pissed off. For a number of reasons. But I’m not going to hit you.”

Tommy hunched in on himself. He’d rather be hit than deal with yelling. Dream didn’t yell, which made him more terrifying than anyone else. Dream had only ever yelled once, and that was about Tommy’s disks.

“I’d honestly prefer you hitting me than this,” Tommy said under his breath, pulling the blanket tighter around him.

Techno fell silent, and Phil seemed to choose that moment to come back. A hand was gently placed on Tommy’s back for a brief moment, alerting Tommy to someone being there.

Phil came around, back into Tommy’s line of sight. A bowl was clutched in his hands. The stew inside looked more appetizing then it had last night. Tommy didn’t give a shit either way, and neither did his stomach, apparently, since it growled the moment he saw it.

Tommy’s head snapped up, and he tried to snatch the bowl from Phil’s hands like he’d done the night before. Phil, however, seemed to have expected this, turning just enough to prevent him from reaching it.

He bit his lip as his stomach growled again. “Please,” he said softly, knowing that Dream liked it when he said please so maybe that’s what Phil wanted too?

“I’m not keeping it from you,” Phil was staring at him with an odd look on his face, but Tommy wasn’t paying attention to that. “I was just going to feed it to you so you didn’t drink it and get it everywhere.”

Tommy didn’t believe him. He couldn’t believe him. He just stared dully at the bowl until Phil scooped some up with a spoon and held it out.

“I put daisies in this,” Phil said gently as he fed Tommy the stew, spoonful by spoonful, with Techno silent in the background. “It should help you with your side. How did that happen anyway?”

“Pickaxe,” Tommy mumbled after swallowing a bite.

“You have to be really uncoordinated to stab yourself with a pickaxe,” Techno said dryly. “Unless you were trying to do it on purpose. I didn’t think you were THAT clumsy.”

Tommy paused. Had he done it on purpose? All he remembered was swinging, and then pain. Had he been swinging at himself? Or at rock? He had no idea. That thought both scared him and relaxed him at the same time.

His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Phil paled and Techno fell silent once more. The only sound in the room was of the fire cackling.

“Tommy,” Phil whispered. “Did you stab yourself on purpose?”

The way Tommy hesitated before answering seemed to answer the question for them, but he spoke anyway. “I don’t remember,” he answered, being brutally honest. “I just remember swinging... at something. Then my pickaxe falling, and it hurt, and blood getting everywhere.”

“Has that happened before?” Phil’s voice seemed shaky as he scooped up more of the stew, letting Tommy finish before continuing to speak. “Where you don’t remember things that happen to you? Things... you do to yourself?”

Tommy thought for a few moments, feeling like he was missing something important. “Back in Logstedshire,” he said finally. “I’d wake up underwater. A lot. Every morning. No idea how I would get there. I ended up not sleeping most nights.”

They didn’t say anything else after that, and even though Tommy hated yelling, he hated the silence even more. Normally, he’d rush to fill silences with his own words, just trying to escape the deafening quiet. But he hadn’t been able to force himself to do that in weeks, maybe even months. He had instead been choosing to sit in the silences. Dream said his rambles were annoying and Dream was always right.

Dream was always right.

Wasn’t he supposed to be fighting Dream? Getting revenge?

His head felt like he was swimming through honey. Misshapen thoughts and half-formed beliefs clung to his skin and sucked him down into them no matter how hard he tried to fight them.

Dream was his enemy! But he was his only friend.

Dream had been manipulating him! He had deserved it.

Dream exiled him! Tubbo exiled him, and Dream stayed with him because he cared about him.

Dream was a liar! Dream hadn’t lied to him once, they were friends, friends don’t lie to each other.

Dream hurt him! Dream protected him from himself, and from everyone else. Everyone else would hurt him, Dream was only doing what was best for him.

It was infuriating and Tommy wanted to slam his head into the wall repeatedly until his thoughts made sense again, uncaring if he managed to severely hurt himself in the process. But at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to care, even though he knew something was wrong.

When had he closed his eyes? He wasn’t sure, but darkness had surrounded him and a spoon was prodding at his mouth. Tommy wordlessly opened his mouth and let the spoon go in. He normally would feel embarrassed, being fed like a toddler, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long he sat like that, eyes closed and huddled in a blanket, but he came to a little later to a hand on his head, ruffling his greasy hair.

His head was feeling much clearer, almost, if not quite, back to normal. Memories, bad memories, confusing memories, kept piling up in his head and he shoved them as far down as he could, not wanting to look at them.

“You look like shit,” Techno grunted, catching Tommy’s attention as his gaze swiveled towards him. Techno passed him a mirror, which Tommy glanced down at.

He did look like shit. Deep, black stains were under his eyes, signaling his lack of sleep. His cheeks were hollow and lips chapped and cracked. There was a sharp bruise on his temple, contrasting against the paleness of his skin.

His eyes weren’t blue anymore. They were a dark, stormy gray that were so dull and lifeless it took him a moment to realize that they were his. His blonde hair was limp, stringy, and greasy. It was much longer than he remembered, falling unevenly below his jawline.

His face was streaked with dirt, dried blood, food crumbs, and coal dust.

It was safe to say, he looked filthy.

It only took one glance to see that his clothes were in a similar state. Wrinkled, torn, streaked with coal dust, dried blood, dirt, and remnants of food.

“Phil’s warming up some water for a bath, if you want it,” Techno took the mirror back. “Do you think you can handle it yourself? Or are you going to have to be bathed like your a kid?”

Tommy hunched in on himself, embarrassment flooding through him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it.

“Come on, nothing?” Techno asked, and if Tommy had been in a better state of mind, he might have been able to recognize Techno as teasing, and a little concerned. “You aren’t gonna shout at me? Curse at me? Give me something to work with.”

Tommy said nothing, staring straight ahead at the fire. He silently wondered how it would feel to throw himself into the fireplace with it.

Techno would catch him, surely, and the burning would hurt.

Why had he thought of that? He shivered slightly.

“Come on, Toms,” Techno mock-groaned, sitting on the bed next to Tommy. “Be interestin’. Yell at me already. Aren’t you pissed? I blew up L’manburg, remember? I killed your friend, I killed Tubbo. Just yell at me. Tommy, for fucks sake. Say SOMETHING.”

Tommy could hear the desperation in his brother’s voice. The concern. Techno was worried about him because of his silence. That was rich, considering Techno was one of the people who openly and loudly asked Tommy to shut up quite often.

“What do you want me to say?” Tommy asked tiredly, his mouth actually forming the words correctly and distinctly, a sign he was feeling better. “You want me to yell at you? You want me to scream? Shout? Curse? I’m tired, of doing that Techno. My throat hurts.”

Techno fell into stunned silence, and Tommy kept going. The dam he hadn’t know existed had broken. Words were spilling out faster than he could process them himself.

“My own brain doesn’t make sense,” Tommy admitted. “I don’t know what’s real from what’s not. This could all be a fever dream I’m having in my bed down in that hole, dying of infection that I didn’t know was there until Phil asked me about having a cut.”

Still no answer, and Tommy didn’t stop.

“I can’t tell if Dream was my friend or not. Half of my brain says yes, the other half says no. Friends aren’t supposed to hit you, right? But I deserved it. Everyone left me alone but Dream was there and that makes him better than anyone else, right? That makes him my friend, right? He said I couldn’t trust anyone else. Dream’s always right.

“I don’t remember if I stabbed myself with a pick on purpose. I don’t remember where all these damn burns came from. I don’t remember how I kept waking up at the bottom of the ocean. I don’t remember how many times I thought about just staying there and letting go. I don’t know why I keep having these thoughts, about lying out in the snow and letting myself falling asleep. About stealing your sword and slitting my throat with it. About throwing myself into a lava pool. About letting you cleave your axe into my skull because I know you desperately want to.

“I’m so so so tired. I want to kill Dream, and I want my disks, but I’m just so fucking tired. I just don’t care anymore, Techno. I don’t care that you killed Tubbo. I don’t care that you blew up Manburg. I just- I’m tired but I don’t want to die, Techno. I don’t want to die. I do, but I don’t.”

Tommy suddenly turned and grabbed onto Techno’s arms fiercely, holding onto them so tightly that he was pretty sure he was cutting of circulation. He didn’t look away from the fire, scared of what he might find on Techno’s face.

“I don’t care about what you did. I fucking forgive you. I hope you forgive me. But just please, please don’t let me- don’t let me off myself,” Tommy’s voice turned desperate, pleading. “I don’t want to die. I can’t trust myself anymore. I’m so fucking tired. I just want to be a FAMILY again.”

The room fell into silence. The flood of words trickling away from Tommy’s lips. He couldn’t take them back now, though he desperately wanted to. This was TECHNO. Techno wasn’t supposed to know that Tommy was weak. No one was.

Yet with the last little drops, he managed to form one last sentence before his voice gave out completely.

“Please, please let us just be family again.”

* * *

Tommy had scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed at his skin until it turned pink beneath his nails, rinsing off layers of dirt and layers of skin as well. His whole body stung, his head in particular, as he’d paid extra attention to his face and scalp.

He’d sat in the bath until the water had turned freezing. Even then, it had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to force himself out instead of letting his head sink below the surface and stay there.

Every few minutes or so a knock would sound on the door to the bathroom. Phil would ask if Tommy was alright, and he would keep asking until Tommy responded verbally, then he’d leave.

Tommy knew that this meant Techno had told Phil everything.

Eventually, when Tommy’s teeth had been chattering for several minutes and he couldn’t feel his fingertips or toes, he forced himself out of the water. He dried off quickly-

and found a familiar pale blue uniform underneath the towel that had been laid out for him.

His breath hitched slightly as he spotted it, picking up the pale blue jacket/shirt thing that had been left. It was an old uniform, of the antarctic empire from way back when. Underneath it were a thin black turtleneck, plain white trousers, pants, a black belt, and some thick socks. As well as a note.

_If you’d rather have something different, holler and I’ll grab something else for you. -Dad_

Tommy hesitated, wondering if he really should call out for something else. Wearing the uniform felt... wrong... in a way. Both Techno and Phil wore something similar, with boots and dark blue cloaks and elbow length gloves. Tommy didn’t think that he was allowed to wear something like this.

“Tommy?” There was Phil again, knocking at the door. “Are you alright?”

He hesitated. “Are you sure I’m allowed to wear this?” He asked softly, after a moment of silence.

“I wouldn’t have left it out if you weren’t,” Phil reassured him. “They might be a bit big, because we made them thinking you weren’t going to be so... thin. We have gloves and boots too, as well as a cloak, if you want it.”

Tommy still hesitated, hands gripping the jacket tightly.

“Do you want them, Tommy? I can get something else, its not a problem.”

“I-” Tommy swallowed. “I’ll wear ‘em.”

He could practically hear the smile on Phil’s face. “Okay. Come back down when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tommy changed into the outfit, finding that indeed, the clothes were on the larger side. The turtleneck was meant to be skintight, and it was, but it still hung in places where he should have muscle but didn’t. The pants were loose around his waist, and the belt had to be pulled several notches tighter than he was used to.

Standing and staring at himself in the mirror, Tommy found the outfit ridiculous on him. It felt wrong, and he felt stupid for wearing it. But at the same time, he felt better in it. It was wrong but right at the exact same time. It didn’t make sense, but a lot of things didn’t make sense. That’s just how it was in Tommy’s brain. It’d been like that ever since Tubbo exiled him. Dream exiled him.

He could barely recognize his own reflection. He was still too pale. His eyes were still a stormy gray. His hair was still limp, but no longer greasy. The layers of dirt were gone from his face, but his cheeks were still hollow and the bags underneath his eyes were still there too.

Tommy forced himself out of the bathroom and into the main room, finding Techno and Phil talking in hushed voices. Their conversation halted as soon as he stepped in the room.

But Phil was smiling, and Techno was doing his “just barely there smile” mouth twitch.

“That looks better,” Techno nodded in approval at Tommy’s outfit. “Looks like you just needed some cleaning up. You look almost as good as new, gremlin.”

Tommy was fiddling with his sleeves nervously. “It feels weird, wearing this,” he admitted. “It’s always been you guys’ thing, the whole royalty getup, especially during the antarctic empire.”

“You get used to it,” Phil reassured him, turning and grabbing a dark blue cloak that was hanging nearby and draping it over Tommy’s shoulders, fastening it around his neck.

The fabric was heavy, and Tommy was still adjusting to its weight when he was handed elbow length black gloves, identical to Phil’s and Techno’s, as well as a pair of warm boots.

Tommy pulled the boots on first, lacing them up tightly, before pulling the gloves on next.

“So, what are the plans here,” Techno drawled, patting the table in a gesture for Tommy to sit down, which he did. Techno immediately started messing with Tommy’s hair, combing out the knots and twisting the strands until it was pulled into a neat bun. Only a section of Tommy’s hair fell out of the bun, covering one of Tommy’s eyes, but Techno pulled the section behind Tommy’s ear and left it at that. “I’m all for slaughtering Dream in the most brutal way possible. Are we doing L’manburg, too?”

“What?” Tommy asked, bewildered, as Techno came away from behind him and sat down at the table too.

“No one hurts our family without consequence,” Phil chuckled, and Tommy heard the sinister tone in his father’s voice. Phil had a chaotic side just like the rest of the family. A side that he didn’t show too often, but when it was revealed, there was always hell to pay.

“So Dream definitely,” Techno mused.

“Dream’s my friend,” Tommy protested weakly. Were they friends? Tommy thought they were. They were supposed to be, right? Dream said they were, and Dream was never wrong. Dream had been right about everything. Dream wouldn’t lie to him.

Would he?

“Friends don’t hit friends, Tommy,” Phil said darkly, effectively snapping Tommy out of that mindset.

“Friends don’t lie to their friend’s family members for weeks telling them they’re brother is dead, either,” Techno growled.

“Does everyone really think I’m dead?” Tommy asked softly, not wanting to think it was true. It was hard to believe.

“Everyone except Dream, I imagine,” Techno was drumming his fingers on the table, radiating silent anger once more.

“Ghostbur had been looking for you ever since you vanished,” Phil interjected. “New L’manburg held a funeral for you, that even Techno was invited to with a promise of temporary truce. Everyone attended, so we have to assume all of them thought you were dead.”

“We’re getting off topic,” Techno interrupted. “Dream is a definitive target. Are we going after anyone else?”

Tommy looked down at his hands. “No,” he mumbled. “The rest- no one else did anything. All they did was not visit. Dream was the only one who hit me.”

The words “Dream was the only one who made me like this” went unsaid, but they all heard it.

“Well,” Phil hummed, letting a hand rest on Tommy’s shoulder. “All in favor of making Dream regret ever touching my son?”

Tommy bit his lip to keep from crying. He was Phil’s son. Phil was referring to him as his son.

Maybe he wasn’t alone anymore.

“I’m in,” Techno grinned something feral. “The voices are in agreement as well, so you know I’m in.”

Techno and Phil’s murderous glints must’ve been contagious, as Tommy felt anger rise up in him. Anger that Dream exiled him. Anger that Dream had hurt him. Anger that Dream thought he could win.

Some of his thoughts still sucked him down into Dream being his friend, but Tommy knew that those traitorous parts of his brain would wither and die before long. He was with his family now. Dream wasn’t there to poison him.

“Let’s burn that motherfucker to the ground,” Tommy hissed.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @Rose12610  
> Tumblr: @alwaysananxiousmess
> 
> I came very close to caving and making this 6,969 words ngl. 
> 
> I started writing this before the streams today, watched the streams, and then said fuck it, kept writing it anyway even though its no longer canon/plot relevant.


End file.
